


Bon Route

by GwennhaduBug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: College AU, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Road Trips, i guESS but it's more pining than angst, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwennhaduBug/pseuds/GwennhaduBug
Summary: Alya and Marinette are blissfully domestic college roommates with one small detail: Alya is hopelessly in love with Marinette, and Marinette is hopelessly straight. Marinette gets the brilliant idea to take them both on a cross-continent road trip to Rome and Alya jumps at the chance. Two weeks in even closer quarters with the love of her life? It sounds like a WONDERFUL idea...if it doesn't kill her first.Originally posted on tumblr for Alyanette Week 2018 (Day 6: Domestic). Posted as a stand-alone one-shot, but originally written as chapter one of a Very Long Story.





	Bon Route

**Author's Note:**

> As I said [ on tumblr ](https://gwennhadu-bug.tumblr.com/post/180161686292/bon-route), "Today’s entry is actually chapter one of an Alyanette story I have in the freezer. However, I think it fits nicely as a cute, fluffy, bittersweet one-shot for all your domestic roommate AU needs." 
> 
> The story this comes from is a lost and struggling draft which may never see the light of day in its completion. I love the idea behind it, so I may do some major re-writes and may actually post it...but that won't be until "The Fox of Marseille" is put to bed completely. Let me know if you like the idea and I'll try to put more steam in it!
> 
> The most fun part is that this story is almost entirely based on moments from my own life: a combination of moments with my nauseatingly straight (but unbelievably affectionate) college roommate best friend and moments from being college best friends (and then roommates) with a girl who, unbeknownst to me, had a massive crush on me (and is now my wife. happy endings, y'all).

“Alya, rooming with Marinette? Are you sure?”  


Alya glared at Nino. She clicked through apartment ads a little more fiercely as she replied, “Of course I’m sure! We’re best friends! It’s going to be amazing.”

“Are you really sure you can deal with that, day in, day out? You’re not supposed to room with your best friend. Being with them day-in and day-out, having chores together, seeing them at their worst…it ruins friendships, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, please. I’ve had so many sleepovers with Marinette that her parents started giving me chores in lycée. We’ve done the highs and lows together! Besides…You’re rooming with Adrien and I’m not giving you a hard time.” Alya rolled her eyes.

“Adrien’s apartment is so huge we each get private bedrooms and a cleaning staff. Dude, I’m going to be living the high life. We won’t have any problems.” Nino grinned and flipped his collar once, already looking forward to being rich-by-proxy. “Besides…I’m not  _in love_  with Adrien.”

“Asshole,” Alya hissed. “Maybe I did think this through with that in mind. Did you ever think of that? I’ve heard how rooming together ruins friendships because it, whatever, gets rid of the mystique. You see all their faults. I know that! You think I didn’t know that? If I room with Mari, if I see all her faults…maybe I can get over her.”

“Alya…that is by far the stupidest idea you have ever had.”

* * *

Alya strolled through the booksellers’ carts, picking up a book here and setting one back down. She wanted to find the perfect book, the perfect source of inspiration…she picked up a thoughtful book on the history of politics in Paris, frowned, and read the back. Did she have time to start a new article? Or at least research for one? She had the Ladyblog to maintain…true, it had significantly less traffic, now that Le Papillion had been ‘taken care of’ four years ago, but there was still enough attention on part-time superheros of Paris that it helped pay her rent. She had her studies at university- her third year of the Journalism program, and the most intense year of work. And then she had her day-job, writing fluff pieces and editing guest submissions for Buzzfeed France. The part time job that barely made her pocket-change and still somehow sapped up hours and hours out of her week.  


Alya flipped through the pages of the book, inhaled the old, well-used scent, and handed it to the bookseller. Sure, she had time.

As Alya exchanged pleasantries and euros with the old man and his cart, her phone started to ring. “Thank you, monsieur. Have a good day!” Alya told him, hurrying to pick up the call. There was no mistaking that ringtone and she nearly dropped the phone in her excitement. She hurried away from the cart, fluffed her hair, straightened her glasses, and picked up the call. “Hey, girl!”

“Alya! Hi! Are you close to home?” Marinette’s voice was light and happy. It jingled like a bell and Alya couldn’t help but smile.

Alya looked around herself. She absolutely was not. “What’s up?”

“I’m making profiteroles! Do you want to help? If you’re nearby, of course!”

Profiteroles. Marinette was making creampuffs. Alya had roomed with her best friend long enough to know that she only pulled out the baking supplies if she was stressed with her schoolwork, homesick, or desperately happy. From her voice, it sounded like the third. She imagined Marinette with her hair tied up in pigtails, her pink hand-stitched apron tied around her neck and waist, and a light dusting of flour all over their shared kitchen and on Marinette’s nose. “I absolutely want to help. Be right there!”

Marinette squealed in delight. “Excellent. I’ll start the dough. You’re close?”

Alya was eight arrondissements away from their university apartment. She was nearly an hour out by train. “Absolutely!” she lied, “See you there!” She ended the call and pocketed her phone. Alya walked around a corner and swung her backpack to the front. She opened it and, under the guise of putting away her new book, called into the bag. “Hey, Trixx! Trixx, wake up!”

Trixx was already awake. He was sitting on top of a textbook, arms folded as she squinted hard at Alya. “Did you just lie to Marinette?”

“I didn’t lie! We’re close. If you help me, we’re close!”

“Mmmhmm. And what do I get out of it, huh?” Trixx teased, winking. But she flew out of the bag, ready to go regardless.

“Actually, we’re making profiteroles.”

His eyes were already wide, but Trixx’s eyes went wider at Alya’s promise. “Profiteroles? With ice cream?”

“You bet.”

“Alright! I’m game! Let’s go make you into an honest woman!”

“Transform me!” Trixx zoomed into Alya’s necklace and in a flash of light, Rena Rouge stood where Alya just had. Rena grinned, squeezing her fists.

Rena took off running down the alley and with a flying leap, propelled herself onto a nearby building. She landed on the brick, scampering up the grout, and raced across the rooftops. “Nothing to see here, folks,” she mumbled under her breath, imagining peers of reporters snapping pictures. “No crime, no escaped animals, no runaway metros. Just a stupid girl, risking her secret identity to make stupid creampuffs with her stupid crush.”

But really, should she feel guilty? She’d been given the miraculous full-time right before the Miraculous team defeated Le Papillion. She got to keep it when the battle emotionally destroyed Ladybug and Chat Noir, and she knew for a fact that she wasn’t the only one who abused her miraculous abilities just slightly. After all, how many times had she gone to visit Nino and caught Carapace sitting in his room, playing video games, claiming that he had ‘quicker instincts’ in the suit? She was pretty damn sure that Wayzz hadn’t intended his powers be used to beat 13 year olds at online video games.

Ladybug and Chat Noir probably abused their powers too…whoever they were.

With her Miraculous abilities, Rena arrived at the building next to her apartment in only 7 minutes. She pounced into the empty alley, dropped the transformation, and ran into the apartment building. Their building was over a hundred years old, and it showed. Mainly in the fact that they lived on the fourth floor and had no elevator. “Damn it, I should have waited to detransform,” she grumbled as Alya started up the familiar staircase. It creaked and groaned as she hustled, Trixx riding happily in her bag.

“You can do it, Alya! Ice - cream! Ice - cream! Ice - cream!”

“You know, that chant doesn’t motivate me like it motivates you.”

“Oh, right.” Trixx giggled. “How about this one- Mar-i-nette! Mar-i-nette! Mar-i-nette!”

Alya laughed. “Oh, shut up, Trixx! We’re almost there anyway.” She got to the final floor, hands resting on her knees while Alya took a few deep breaths. God, out of shape as a 20 year old superhero? What kind of life was this? Not that she’d ever join Adrien and Marinette on their stupid morning jogs. She might like her friends, she might be a little bit in love with her roommate, but she wasn’t a  _masochist_.

She straightened up and walked to the door, music muffled from the other side. Alya paused to catch her breath before opening it. And, of course, she fluffed her hair and tugged at her clothes again.

Alya didn’t even like profiteroles.

She put her key in the lock and heard Marinette speaking to herself, as Alya sometimes caught her doing. Alya opened the door wide open and suddenly lost her breath again.

There was Marinette, just like she had imagined her. Her back was turned to the door, so Alya had a moment or two to stare before her roommate noticed. Her hair was pulled up in pigtails like she wore it when she was working, she wore a pastel pink apron with tiny Ladybugs embroidered around the edges, the kitchen was already dusted with flour. And of course, she was  _dancing_ to the music from her speaker. Not well, mind you. But moving her hips to the beat and scuffling her bare feet back and forth and that fucking adorable ass bopped around to the music as well. Alya grinned. God, Marinette was so cute. And so, so straight. “Honey, I’m home,” she sang out.

Marinette spun on her heels and Alya could swear that her sparkling blue eyes lit up even more. “Alya! You were so fast! Come on, come on! I’m just dishing the dough into these piping bags, so you missed the messy part. Grab an apron!”

Alya set her backpack down at the door and picked out one of the aprons Marinette had made for her- Black and red, like Ladybug, but with her name stitched across the front in the prettiest blue. “So, good mood baking?”

Marinette smiled into her big bowl of dough as she stirred it around. “Yes. Absolutely, yes!”

“Well? Spill, girl! What happened? Did you get a good grade on something? Did a boy ask you out? Is Adrien paying for our rent again this month?”

Her laugh sounded like a ringing bell in Alya’s ears. “He only did that because it was my birthday! But I bet he’ll pay it again for your birthday in two months…you should ask him! He totally would.” Marinette smiled as she talked about Adrien. It had taken four months after their painful breakup, one that Alya still didn’t really understand, but now Adrien was like a best friend to Marinette all over again. Most people in their group of friends said that it would always be Marinette and Adrien, in the end. And maybe it would be…if it made her best friend happy, Alya would stand there as maid of honor for the rest of their lives. But that didn’t mean Alya couldn’t dream of a different Happily Ever After. “But no,” Marinette continued. “It wasn’t any of those things. Ooh, Alya, you’re never going to guess. Would you help flatten down the little caps on the cream puffs?”

“Do what now?”

“I’m going to pipe little balls onto the baking sheet. Then I need you to wet your fingers and round them off. See, watch:” Marinette stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth as she carefully, carefully, squeezed her dough. A tiny ball formed and with practiced expertise, Marinette whipped the piping bag away. The pastry dough left a little tip at the top. “See the little pointed top? I need you to flatten it down. If we work together, we’ll have these in the oven in no time!”

And so, Alya followed instructions. She filled a bowl of water to keep her hands clean and wet, following Marinette around the baking sheet and rounding off the creampuffs. By the time they’d finished the first half, Marinette seemed confident enough in Alya’s assistance to finish her story. “My good mood- I talked to my Mami today!”

“Which one? The rock-and-roll grandma, or your mom’s mom?”

“Rock and roll,” Marinette replied. “She’s throwing a surprise 28th anniversary party for my parents…in ROME!”

Alya scrunched her eyebrows together. “In  _Rome_? A 28th anniversary? Girl, that’s not exactly a big year…”

“That’s why it’s a surprise! It’s next month, while classes are out for holiday. Mami told them that she needs help moving into a new apartment in Rome and convinced my Papa that he should just take Maman there for their anniversary. Papa is a romantic, so he took the bait. But Mami isn’t actually moving into a new apartment. Instead, she’s got a whole vacation planned for them, including a big anniversary dinner party! All of Papa’s Italian family is going to come and surprise them, which is great, because we almost never see them. She’s inviting some of their friends and other family members, whoever wants to actually make the trip…I think your parents are invited, Alya. And Mami knows how Papa is about croquembouche, so she’s going to have all their catering stuff driven to Italy so he can make his own.”

“Won’t your parents think that’s weird, if they’re driving their catering truck to Rome to help your Mami move?”

Marinette leaned closer to Alya, close enough that Alya could smell her soap. Close enough to drive her insane.“No, because they won’t be driving it. Maman and Papa are flying. I get to drive it!”

“You do?! You’re driving to Rome?!”

“Yep!” Marinette put her piping bag down and grabbed Alya’s wet hands. “We are! I mean, if you want! I was thinking that we could go together!”

“To Rome?”

“Yes!”

“With you?”

“Yes!”

“By car?”

Marinette giggled. “Yes, Alya! How else would we drive? It’s about a fourteen hour drive, so we’re going to split it up, obviously. We can see France a little bit. Drive to Geneva and visit Chloe. Maybe even stop in Milan!”

“You would love that!”

“I would! When Mami asked me, she said I should bring someone so I’m not driving alone. And I immediately thought, _who would be the most fun person to drive across Europe with?_ And it’s you! It would be amazing, don’t you think?! We’re not in school at the time, so we’re not missing anything. It’s an entire month away, so I know I don’t have anything planned, and…oh, but do you? I shouldn’t just assume you’re free to go!”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you have any….oh I don’t know. Any dates with any girls that might turn into a reason you can’t take some time and drive to Rome?”

Alya crossed her arms, smirking a bit. “No, I don’t have any dates with any girls that I know of. I don’t exactly have a lot of girls lining up to date me, Marinette.”

Marinette gestured with her piping bag, glaring as she said, “Well, you should!” She returned to piping out another cream puff, triggering Alya to wet her fingers and trim the top. “Those ridiculous University girls are missing out and should absolutely be lining up to date you. Not just our school! We see cute women all the time! You should have dates all over Paris!”

“Are you going to tell them that, girl?”

“You bet I would!”

Alya chuckled. “Alright. Next time I get together with all the queer girls in Paris, we’ll call you over as our keynote speaker.”

Marinette pouted. It was such an infuriatingly cute pout. “You’re making fun of me.”

Alya giggled and poked Marinette in the side. “You bet I am.” Marinette squealed in laughter, and Alya couldn’t help but tickle her further until Marinette was squirming and smacking away Alya’s nimble fingers.

“See, you have to come with me!”

“Because you have power over all the lesbians?”

Marinette laughed. “No. If I had that superpower, you would know! No, you have to come because we have so much fun together. Imagine you and me, driving across Europe, to  _Italy_. All the gelato you can eat! It would be  _so much fun_.”

And Alya knew it would be. Her heart had started beating out of her chest the moment Marinette first asked. Her best friend was grinning, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the mere idea, and even if she wanted to, Alya couldn’t say no. And so she screamed instead. Her screams had become commonplace and Marinette didn’t even flinch- she just grinned again. Alya bounced with her scream, hair bouncing after her. “Of course! Let’s do it, girl! Let’s drive to Rome!”

Marinette laughed in delight and threw her arms around Alya, squeezing her tight. Alya hugged back, resting her chin for just a moment on her much shorter friend’s shoulder. When Marinette broke the hug, she still kept their hands clasped. “I’m so excited, Alya. I’ll tell Mami while these are in the oven. We have so much planning to do! Rome! A road trip to Rome! We’ll take three days to drive there, five or six days in Rome maybe, and then two or three days driving back. Two weeks!”

Marinette turned back to the little balls of dough, squeezing out the last few to fit on the baking sheet as Alya returned to swiping off the tops. Once all of them were swiped, Marinette carried the trays to the oven and got to work on the chocolate sauce. The entire time, she babbled on and on about their trip- tiny towns in France they could see, Chloe’s place in Geneva, all the fashion in Milan, all the art in Rome…and Alya couldn’t keep her eyes off of her. The way Marinette lit up when she was excited, it lit up the entire room. She was glad Trixx was all the way in her bag across the kitchen because the way Alya was mooning, her kwami would never let her live this down.

Two weeks.  _Two weeks._  Living in close quarters with Marinette was already one thing. Going to class, she had breathing room to try and clear her head, look at other cute University girls, and talk to her guy friends. She had sleepovers with Nino when it got too hard and they watched bad movies together in front of Adrien’s enormous flatscreen, sometimes sparred in their miraculous suits; anything to get her mind clear before diving back in to living with Marinette. But this was two weeks with Marinette’s smile, her perfume, her laugh. Two weeks watching Marinette stumble, blush, and get that adorable angry pout. Two weeks in the same car without a room to hide in. Two weeks with her straight crush.

Alya smiled, and through her teeth she groaned, “Oh, Erzulie, kill me now.”

“What was that?” Marinette asked, turning from her chocolate sauce with bright eyes.

“Just…excited for the profiteroles!”

“You can lick the bowl,” Marinette offered, gesturing with her head towards the big empty dough bowl. That, Alya could do without dying. She practically pounced over to the bowl, hopping herself up onto the counter with the bowl in hand and dug, face-first, and started licking up the batter. Marinette laughed. “I meant with a spoon! I know I said you could lick it, but-”

Alya pulled the bowl away and grinned toothily at Marinette. “Why involve a middle-man?”

“Your tongue is going to get sore, Alya.”

“Oh, please. My tongue muscle is very strong. I get practice. I can do this just fine.” She was on her way back to licking when Alya froze and realized what she’d said. She started to blush, noticing Marinette doing just the same. Oh, god! The one time she  _didn’t_ mean to make an innuendo… “Aw, fuck,” Alya muttered.

Marinette had turned even redder with time and was now whisking her chocolate much faster than she should be. “I thought you said that you didn’t exactly have girls lining up to date you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Alya squealed.

Marinette looked over at Alya, possibly to say some mocking remark. But she smiled instead. “You have batter all over your face, now. Just…by the way.” Alya stuck her tongue around her mouth to try and lap up as much as she could. When Marinette chanced a glance back at her roommate, she shook her head. “No, Alya, it’s… here.” She set down her whisk, wiping her hands on her apron and wandered over to Alya.

As Marinette got closer, just moments after Alya had said that ridiculous thing, Alya’s heart started to pound again. And god, could Marinette hear it? Could she hear how her heart was beating or see how tightly she was gripping the damn batter bowl? With Alya on the counter and Marinette standing on the floor, Alya loomed over Marinette by an entire head, but she still felt so small. Marinette put one hand on the counter to brace herself, propelling herself up on her tip-toes and with her other hand, swiped batter off of Alya’s forehead, cheeks, and then once on her nose. And then…and then she stuck her finger  _in her mouth_  and sucked it clean. Marinette smiled softly. “Considering how messy of an eater you’ve become since graduation, maybe I should have just let you make a mess of your face and had you clean it up later.”

“You could clean it off again if you want,” Alya said first, thinking second, and then started to scream in her head. What the hell did she say that for?!

“That’s your job, Mademoiselle,” Marinette teased, tapping Alya’s nose again with the same damn finger that had just been between her damn pink soft lips. And with a flouncing turn, Marinette started to bop along to the background music and set her chocolate sauce to cool. “Fresh profiteroles soon! Don’t eat so much batter you won’t want to eat them!”

“Girl, do I ever not want to eat something?” Alya asked, thankful that Marinette couldn’t see her face. She was still recovering from that nose boop.

“Good point.” She took a wooden spoon dipped in chocolate and put it chocolate-side down in her apron pocket. Alya rolled her eyes, grinning, but didn’t say anything. Not this time. Marinette was clumsy, forgetful, left rolls of fabric and scraps all over the shared bedroom, and had a terrible habit of putting her baking supplies into her purse or apron pocket or somewhere else that ended up making a huge mess. She was a nineteen year old human disaster. And Alya was absolutely smitten.


End file.
